Under A Bleeding Sun
by Wendham
Summary: Dean and Sam head to small town Hysham to check out a string of vanishing children and a local legend about a cannibal witch. Being the Winchesters, they get more than they bargained for. OFCs and OMCs abound.
1. Let It Die

_You're using animal blood. _

Black eyes glanced over to the deer that was still bleeding out. It's legs twitched and it's tongue lolled out of it's mouth. A sigh and the dark eyes returned to the chalice filled with thick blood.

"I'm watching Murdock, as you said. He lives in a small town. Anyone I kill will be noticed," was the soft reply. "He's coming along well. He's full of hate for this place."

'_I'm sending someone else to watch Murdock. I want you on the Winchesters.' _

A swallow. The Winchesters were formidable Demon Hunters. Infiltrating them was signing your own release to Hell. If there were even the slightest hint that you weren't who you said you were, they'd follow that until they cracked you open like an egg, and then they'd send you spiraling back down into the frying pan. No demon wanted to watch them. They were good at what they did. _Too _good for anyone to go in and play pretend for more than a few hours.

'_You're good and you're the only one I trust to pull it off.' _

"Yes, Sir. Is there anything specific you wanted me to get from them?"

_'I want to know everything. Bed one of them if you have to and leave _nothing _out. Don't pull out unless it gets too hot. If it does, jump your body and get out. I need to know where Sam Winchester stands.' _

"Yes, Sir."

'_Don't fail me.' _

"I haven't yet."


	2. Million Miles

"What've you got?" Sam asked, his fingers resting against the keys of his laptop. Dean breathed in and sighed, picking up his beer and knocking back what was left. He shoved the newspaper he was looking at towards his younger brother.

"Three suicides. May or may not be connected," he said, pointing to the obituaries circled in red. Three suicides in the same town could have been nothing, but it was all he could find. Either demons and ghosts were taking a break from haunting and killing or they were laying low. There certainly wasn't enough activity this month to break any scales. "You?"

"Five missing children in Hysham, Montana," said Sam, turning his computer so Dean could see the screen. A county newspaper had printed an article about the missing children. Apparently they were stepping up security that was, supposedly, too overwhelming for the sleepy townsfolk to handle. "Seven kids went missing in 1997 and before that in 1987."

"Local legends?" Dean asked, waving over a waitress. She wasn't anything to look at and probably pushing fifty, so she didn't hold Dean's attention for very long, for which Sam was privately thankful. It was incredibly annoying when he had to wrestle for his brother's opinion on the subject at hand. Dean asked for another beer with that ridiculous lopsided grin of his and turned back to Sam once the waitress had left.

"Witch - Hansel and Gretel style," Sam answered, gulping down the plain water he'd ordered. "A woman abducted a few children back in 1956. They never found the kids or the woman, but they found her shack. Her oven had overcooked human remains in it."

"Yum," Dean wrinkled his nose and swallowed. "So, we're lookin' for a witch with a taste for baby back ribs. This'll be _fun._"

- - -

"Austin, stay close!" a young mother admonished her six-year-old son, her expression slightly pained. Every time he strayed out of sight, her stomach clenched and her chest tightened in anxiety. Every second of every day she was worried for her children's safety. Her three year old daughter squealed in delight as Austin ran past her. "You're going to give your sister bad habits."

"Hey, mom, can I - can I have a chocolate when - when we get to the store?" the young boy panted, pausing to walk alongside his mother and sister and rest.

"Like you need anymore sugar," his mother muttered, rolling her eyes. She stopped and bent down so she was eye level with the six year old. She held up her index finger. "One chocolate bar, okay? _One._"

Austin nodded his sandy blond head vigorously before running off down the street again. They neared the tiny store on the corner and Austin had already gone inside and come back out by the time his mother and younger sister had gotten there. A sleek black car was pulled up to the curb, which made the woman crinkle her forehead in thought. She didn't know anyone in town who had a car like that. Maybe one of her neighbors had recently bought it.

She snorted at the thought. None of them could _afford _a car like that.

"Hey, mom?" said Austin as they walked into the store, his mother lifting the young girl into her arms. "Can I watch Star Wars tonight?"

"You're too young to watch Star Wars," his mother said with a sigh. She blamed his father and his impressively geeky collection of movies. She silently wished her son had been introduced to children's movies _before _the PG-13 movies. She could only be glad he enjoyed the Flintstones set he'd gotten from his grandmother.

"When I grow up, I want to be Han Solo!"

"And yesterday you wanted to be a Ninja Turtle."

"Hey, Robin," the portly man behind the counter of the small convenience store grinned at her. She was surprised to see two men dressed in uniform black suits. She raised an eyebrow at Dave, the man running the store. "This is - uh - what did you say your name was?"

"Agent Ford and Hamill."

Robin stared at them a moment, pursing her lips together. "Agents, huh? What are you? CIA?"

"FBI," the taller of the pair said, giving her a smile that was more grimace than anything. "We're investigating the missing children." He turned back to Dave, who was leaning against the counter. "If you don't mind me saying, nobody around here seems too worried."

Robin gritted her teeth. "That's because nobody around here has children. Except me."

"And we're all worried for you, Robbie," Dave said, offering her a sympathetic smile.

"So the children aren't actually from around here?" Agent Ford said. Robin tried to busy herself by setting her daughter on the floor and helping her choose a suitable candy for a three year old. It didn't take as long as she had hoped, since her daughter seemed adamant on a blue ring pop. Austin was still trying to choose just which chocolate bar he wanted. When he glanced over at his mother with two in his grubby hands, she held up one finger. He pouted, which she had to ignore, otherwise she'd probably give in.

"No, mostly just people passing through. Most of 'em are staying at the motel now, though," Dave said. "Sheriff's doing everything he can but... you know, the kids just disappeared. No trails or nothing. But hey, FBI. Maybe you'll find those kids. At least keep a close eye on Austin and Shiloh over there. Just between you and me, she could use a few dozen eyes on that boy."

"Dave..." Robin said in a warning tone. Austin had picked out his apparently perfect chocolate bar and Robin set her money on the counter.

"Oh hey, before you go, Isabelle is making her famous apple pie tonight. I think she said something about throwing a blueberry in there. She'll probably give the kids a few extra bowls of ice cream," Dave said, and Robin was only slightly amused when she saw the mention of food peek both her son and one Agent Ford's attention. Hamill seemed exasperated. By the look of them, she didn't blame him.

"I wanna ice cream!" the three year old said, reaching towards the counter as though it actually _had _the ice cream on it.

"Now I _have _to go to the cafe," Robin groaned. And here she'd been hoping for a peaceful night reading a good book. Now she was going to be stuck in a cafe surrounded by farmers and townsfolk waiting for a chance at freshly baked apple pie. By the looks of it, the FBI would be there, too. She handed her son his chocolate bar and slipped the ring pop on her daughter's finger. "C'ya, Dave."

She didn't bother to say goodbye to the suits.

Gathering up her daughter in her arms and taking Austin by the hand, happily munching his chocolate bar, she left the store eager to get back home and possibly barricade herself and her children within it. Going to Isabelle's cafe was not on her to do list tonight. Maybe she still had some ice cream in the freezer she could bride Shiloh and Austin with. Damn Dave. He was _always _putting ridiculous and troubling ideas into her children's heads.

"Hey."

Robin glanced over her shoulder to see one Mr. Ford walking behind her. She let out a sigh and continued walking. He followed. An idea came to her and she stopped.

"Hey," she said, looking thoughtful. "You know, there's an Eric Ford that lives just outside town. You wouldn't happen to be related to him, would you?"

"Uh -" the man looked about ready to make up some excuse and she shook her head.

"No, no, wait, how about Harrison Ford? I hear Mark Hamill's got a cousin," she said, holding Shiloh to her tighter.

"Wow," the man - who she had long since deduced that he was not, in fact, an FBI agent nor named Ford.

"Oh, don't worry - you probably could've passed it off if Austin hadn't been talking about Star Wars _five seconds_ before you introduced yourselves," said Robin with a slight, triumphant smile. Still, it was more than a little awkward talking to a stranger who had obviously falsely introduced himself as an FBI agent just moments before. Especially when her nerves were already on thin ice. She certainly didn't need strangers poking around when she was already hypersensitive to the situation in town.

"Heh," the man rubbed the back of his neck, looking properly sheepish. "Yeah, well, kid's got good taste."

"So do I," Robin said, before continuing to walk. "Now if you'll excuse me..."

"Ouch."

Robin - 2. Agent Ford - 0.

"Look, no offense or anything, but all I want to do is get home, possibly put a few bars on my windows and get back to life. I don't know you, I don't want to know you, and you keep following me which is really starting to freak me out," she said, setting Shiloh on the ground. The little girl, who had been happily sucking away her ring pop, quickly ran off as fast as she could to catch up with her older brother, who was halfway down the street already. Robin was keeping a close eye on them. She'd rather they were half a block away from this stranger than here with her.

"The name's Dean Winchester," the man said.

"Give me a moment to Google that and I'll get back to you," she answered.

"Okay, I deserved that," said Dean, walking beside her. "Look, my brother and I are, uh, uncles to a kid that disappeared. We were just trying to find out if anyone knows anything."

"If you had just walked into the corner store and said 'Hello', Dave would've told you everything he ever knew about anyone in this town in a heartbeat. He's sweet, but not too bright. And obviously _way _too trusting," Robin said, glancing around the small street. Her eyes swept it once more before her heart leapt into her throat and her lungs seemed to close. They were gone.

She ran down the street, frantically searching. Dean seemed to immediately know what she was doing and jogged after her.

"Austin?" she called out, her throat so tight she could hardly get the words out. Her voice was weak. "Shiloh?"

"Austin!" Dean yelled it this time; his voice overpowering her's by far. When they'd reached the end of the street and all she had recovered of them was Shiloh's ring pop, Robin began to panic. Suddenly Dean grabbed her arm and pointed towards the dead end at the end of the adjoining street. "Over there."

Austin was helping Shiloh climb over the curb that stopped people from driving into the field beyond. The little girl was giggling and Austin was urging her to hurry up. Robin squinted and she swore she could see someone standing beyond the tree line that bordered the field. She was pretty sure that was what Austin kept glancing over his shoulder at, too.

"Austin Edward Penn!" she shouted, finding her voice suddenly. Dean glanced at her, as though surprised by the outburst. Probably because she sounded like your typical, pissed off mother. "You get your butt back here!"

The six-year-old boy looked up and almost seemed to cower behind the slab of concrete. Shiloh stopped attempted to lift her leg over the curb and turned around, grinning from ear to ear. She quickly began to run back to her mother, her brown pigtails bouncing. Austin climbed back onto the road and walked much slower than his sister, his head hung low. As soon as she was within reach, Robin bent down and lifted Shiloh back into her arms, clinging to her as though they'd been missing for longer than just a few minutes.

"I _told _you not to go far," Robin said in her practiced disappointed voice. She tried to keep the waver out of it and the tears from falling down her cheeks. "You worried me half to death."

"I'm sorry," Austin said, tears bubbling up in his own eyes. His mother took him by the hand, her resolve fading fast. She squeezed his hand tightly, and breathed deeply. It was amazing - a month ago, if Austin had strayed down the street, she wouldn't have worried half as much. The town looked out for one another and she had no doubt that no matter which neighbor's yard he managed to get into, he'd be in safe hands. Now she didn't trust him to go a few meters away.

Turning to Dean, she tried to look appreciative, and only managed to look strained.

"Thanks, but I really think I should go home," she said, and he nodded, looking genuinely concerned. Maybe he wasn't such a shady character after all. Maybe he really _did _want to help. She'd have loved to believe it, but her overwhelming suspicion of everything got the better of her.

"If you need, y'know, help or anything, me and my brother are staying at the motel. Under Ackroft."

She gave him a nod before walking briskly down the street towards her home, children in tow. She glanced over her shoulder and saw him squinting into the field and she couldn't help wondering if he'd seen the same thing she had.

- - -

"This is the best pie _ever_."

"Dean, could you stop stuffing your face for two seconds?" Sam asked over the ruckus the crowded cafe was making. It was as though everyone in the small town had invaded the cafe just for the chef's pie. He had his own piece of blueberry pie sitting in front of him untouched. Dean had all but made him order it after his own third piece. Sam _had _hoped on getting a little work done tonight, but considering the way Dean was packing away the apple pie, he doubted anything would ever get done until he was absolutely sure there was no pie _left. _"Have you found out _anything_ at all? Besides how many pieces of pie you can eat before you explode?"

"The chick with the kids has a serious case of paranoia," Dean said, digging his fork into his fifth - or was it sixth? - piece of pie. Isabelle, the chef, might as well have put a whole damn pie in front of him and Dean wouldn't have noticed the difference.

"You blame her? Kids are going missing and she's got two," Sam answered exasperatedly.

"Not to mention, her husband's overseas," said Dave, unexpectedly showing up at their table, carrying a plate full of crumbs in front of him. "You know, he's in the military? She's been a real wreck lately. Can't blame her, though, 'cause y'know, raising two kids alone has gotta be tough as it is without Bill - that's her husband - around. And she couldn't fight her way out of a wet paper box."

"Thanks, Dave," Sam said, feeling increasingly more uncomfortable the more Dave went on. He really didn't need to know any of that and he'd rather have _not. _It only made his own stomach turn at the thought that the witch needed two more children and Robin was the only one with two. Once Dave had gone off to sit with a bunch of other gossiping farmers, Dean shoved his empty plate aside.

"Think we should stake her place out?" he asked, gulping down a glass of soda. Sam must've taken after his mother, 'cause Dean sure as hell didn't and Sam refused to acknowledge that he was anything like Dean.

"I think it's better if we didn't," the younger brother wondered if Dean ever actually stopped to think about what was smart and what wasn't. "Besides, dude, you heard Dave. She's married. And totally out of your league."

"I was so not even thinking that," Dean decided to look offended, which Sam thought was pretty damn ridiculous considering he _knew _that had been exactly what Dean was thinking.

"There's only one pie left!" a woman came out of the kitchen carrying a platter above her head on a tray. She was blonde, blue-eyed and -

Dean let out a low whistle.

Sam groaned. There was absolutely no chance of getting any work done at all.

"I'm beginning to _really _like this town."


End file.
